


Butterfly in Full Flight

by Bluehaven4220



Series: Benny and June: Not Like the Movies [6]
Category: due South
Genre: Apologies, Birthday Cake, Fluff, Gen, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 16:28:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11017170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluehaven4220/pseuds/Bluehaven4220
Summary: Bob Fraser meets his granddaughter for the first time





	Butterfly in Full Flight

**Author's Note:**

> Currently unbeta'd. so all mistakes are mine

There were times that I looked back on my childhood and got to thinking that perhaps I’d been too hard on my father. After my mother had died, he’d sent me to live with my grandparents, and thus my childhood, which had been fairly sedentary for me and my mother, became increasingly nomadic. My grandparents had a traveling library, and gave me a love of reading and literature that has so far remained unsurpassed.

In terms of material things, of course. I’d gladly sell every book and piece of clothing I owned if it meant that my daughter, Abigail, had everything she needed. While I was away at Depot, she stayed with her grandparents (believe you me, I know how ironic that is). The difference was that I made every effort to spend as much time with her as possible when I was home, something I hadn’t had. One of the only times I was away from the house while on leave was to do laundry.

I’d been surprised as all get out when I ran into my father at Millie’s laundromat, and even more surprised when my father had asked to meet Abigail. I’d flat out told him no, as Abigail did not need nor deserve the confusion and continued feelings of abandonment that accompanied each of my father’s visits. If he wanted to meet her, he’d have to make a concerted effort to be in her life, and I knew that was unlikely. He barely paid attention to me or my grandparents, why should he be concerned about my daughter?

I remember coming home and talking to my mother-in-law about the incident at the laundromat, and she, in her infinite wisdom, assured me that I’d done the right thing in saying no at the time. After all, she reasoned, no one said I couldn’t change my mind later on. And that got me thinking: that had been six months ago, and my father had written to me asking to meet Abigail once again. He was stationed in Aklavik, 345 miles away, but he did have some leave coming to him, and could he meet Abigail if I would allow it, seeing as I was her father.

My hands shook so hard I nearly dropped the piece of paper. My father, acknowledging the fact that I had a child and was trying to raise her as best I could? Hell must have frozen over, considering how he’d had such contempt for me only a few years earlier. I reread his letter just to be sure that I wasn’t hallucinating.

_Benton,_

_First off, I want to tell you how proud I am of you…._

Reluctantly, I’d agreed, wondering if I was shooting myself in the foot by doing so.

Almost a year after that incident, the first week of October, it was a few weeks before Abby’s third birthday, and I’d been lucky enough to have gotten leave once again, especially since the postings for new graduates were to be announced soon. I’d immediately flown home and started helping Rebecca and Henry with preparations for her party. We weren’t really ones for big celebrations, but what child doesn’t deserve and enjoy cake and a few gifts?

Rebecca was finishing Abby’s birthday cake (which was frosted pink in the shape of a butterfly) and I was standing on one of the kitchen table chairs hanging balloons when there was a knock at the door. Rebecca and I caught each other’s eye, and as I climbed down off the chair, a sense of both dread and confusion washed over me. Opening the door, I saw my father standing there, wrapped in a parka and holding a small, wrapped gift.

“Hello son, may I come in?”

I nodded and moved out of the way as he stepped through the door. “Nice to see you, Dad,” I greeted him dully. “Good that you could make it.”

I saw his expression change slightly. “I wanted to apologize to you, son, as well as meet Abigail.”

“What?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“She’s your daughter, Benton, and from what your grandmother’s told me, you’re an excellent father. I was a damn fool not to see that right away.”

Okay, now I was _sure_ Hell had frozen over, especially if he was talking like that.

“Thank you…” I could hear the inflection in my voice, as though I was asking him a question. “Abby’s not ready for visitors just yet, but you’re welcome to sit with us at the table while we finish getting things ready.”

Dad nodded slightly, set the gift he’d brought on the table, and hung up his parka in the hall closet. As he settled himself at the table, Rebecca pushed a mug of tea in his hands as I climbed back onto the chair I’d previously been using, and set to hanging the rest of the  balloons. Abby had gone into her room to play so we could surprise her with decorations and cake, while the only person missing now was her grandfather, Henry. He was stuck in Fort MacPherson for a few days more. He’d phoned and told us to go ahead and celebrate, and he’d celebrate with us as a family when he returned.  

Just as I finished hanging the last balloon, I heard the bedroom door open, and Abby emerged, clutching the handmade doll my grandmother had made for her (it was now named Lulu, though I have no idea why), and rubbing her eye with a tiny fist. “Daddy?”

“Hi baby girl…” I got off the chair and went to pick her up, holding her close. “We’re almost ready.” She laid her head against my shoulder, and I kissed her hair. “There’s someone who would like to meet you.”

“Who?” she turned around to see my father waiting quietly, his hands around a mug of tea. “Hello,” she must have been feeling brave, because she was looking him square in the eyes, sizing him up. “I’m Abby.” For all she was feeling brave, she still leaned back into my chest, as far from the newcomer as possible.  

“It’s nice to meet you, Abby,” my father put his hands on the table, palms up to show he meant no harm. “I’m…”

“Daddy’s dad,” I interrupted, knowing Abby would decide on a name for him later. After all, she called Rebecca and Henry “Amma” and "Gampa" while my grandparents were “Gigi” and “Papa”, having come up with the names herself. Once she got to know my father a little better, she’d give him a name, I was sure.

“Daddy’s dad?” she parroted. “Like Amma?”

“Close. Amma is your Mommy’s mom,” I answered. We’d told her that June was sleeping with the angels, and when someone goes to sleep with the angels, they can’t come back. I’m not sure how well she understood that, but it was a good enough explanation for now.

“Oh…” she reached forward and tapped my father’s hand with her index finger. “Hi…” she greeted him again, then looked over to see what Rebecca was finishing up. “Amma, whasat?”

“Patience, Abigail,” Rebecca admonished as she finished sticking the last chocolate candy on the cake and lighting the three candles that were there. “Close your eyes, sweetheart. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

I know she’s smiling, and she puts her tiny hands over her eyes, as she had when we’d played peek-a-boo not so long ago. I look over her head to see Rebecca gingerly picking up the pan that held the butterfly cake and moving it to the kitchen table. “Okay, Abigail, you can open your eyes now.”

I bent my head and was able to see Abigail’s eyes light up in pure joy as she realized her grandmother had managed to make her the birthday cake Abigail had found in an old magazine from a box Rebecca had given her to play with. After all, Rebecca had reasoned when I asked her why Abigail would have been playing with old magazines, if they weren’t being used for anything else, Abigail could use them as colouring books to keep herself busy.

I can still remember Abigail screaming in surprise and delight on the phone when I’d called home and she had told me all about how her birthday was coming soon, and how her grandmother was going to make her a butterfly cake. Frankly, I knew all this, but to hear how excited Abigail was about the whole thing made me smile from ear to ear. And whenever I saw her, she was looking more and more like June… God, how I missed June. To know that she wasn’t around to see her daughter grow up, it broke my heart all over again.

“Issa butterfly!” Abigail laughed, clapping her hands. “Amma, you made a butterfly! Is so pretty!” She climbed down off my knee and ran to Rebecca, hugging her around the knees. “Thank you Amma!”

Abigail’s laughter and happiness was contagious, and, as she climbed back onto my knee for us to sing her Happy Birthday, I looked over to see my father singing and smiling as well. When we’d finished singing, she blew out her candles, and started clapping.

Rebecca put plates and forks on the table, and picked up a knife to slice into the butterfly’s pink icing decorated with chocolate candies.

“Alright, baby girl,” I rubbed Abigail’s arm to get her attention. “It’s your turn to choose. Should we cut a piece of cake from the front of the wing, or the back?”

“Back please,” she answered as Rebecca cut a piece and got it onto a plate without crumbs getting everywhere, and I saw how much work had gone into the cake. Rebecca had baked a chocolate cake, filled it with vanilla frosting, then had cut and molded the layers into the various shapes needed to construct this butterfly. “Thank you Amma.” She waited to dig into her slice until Rebecca and I had our plates, and, being the gracious little girl that she is, looked at my father, who seemed like he was quietly waiting his turn.

“Would you like some butterfly cake?” she asked him.

I saw my father smile from ear to ear “I’d love some, thank you Abigail,” he answered her as he accepted a slice of cake from Rebecca and put the plate back on the table. Once Rebecca sat down, the three of us watched in awe as Abigail dug into her piece of cake and pronounced it “ _yummy!”_.

We all sat at the table enjoying our cake, Abigail informing us that, after cake, we should all go outside and build a snow castle. Hearing her say that, and inviting us all to join her, I somehow knew that, in both my father and I taking this step in celebrating Abigail’s birthday together, we were one step closer to forgiving each other, whatever our sins.

One step at a time.


End file.
